Ashes and Roses
by paradoxical
Summary: ( D-Hr-H ) Hermione--a woman who never lets any other man enter her life after Harry’s disappearance. Draco--a wealthy bachelor whose heart has never been used. When two worlds collide, they realise that the only way to go is forward.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer  
  
Harry Potter and its respective characters are © to J.K. Rowling. No infringement intended.  
  
Summary  
  
Three years post-Hogwarts. Since Harry's disappearance, Hermione Granger has contented living on her own in a quaint flat in Prague. Unbeknownst to her, a familiar Pureblood is living in the same vicinity.  
  
Draco Malfoy is living as a wealthy bachelor in an isolated sector of Prague, finally free of his father and Voldemort's clutches since their defeat three years prior.   
  
His life is perfect until he collides into a woman of his past, a memory he long since buried and never dreamt to recreate. What is an emotionally inept man to do when his heart is finally laid out on his sleeve?  
  
Author's Notes  
  
This story reflects a [slightly] new writing style that I am experimenting with, and I must unabashedly affirm that I'm quite proud of it. Remotely inspired by haunting lyrics and fast-paced classical orchestras.  
  
_Ashes and Roses_ is a ficlet collaborated by Celynne and I, our first-ever product that was alternately written with every scene segment. Hours on AIM and other resourceful internet communication was heavily used. I am now all spent of any energy I would have left.  
  
Because of Celynne's preference to Harry/Hermione and I, Draco/Hermione, the centre aspect of this story has come to be a rather dysfunctional love triangle. We're emotional masochists. Oh, well. Expect large dosages of tragic love affairs. Bah.  
  
That said, enjoy.  
  
  
  
  


**Harry Potter: Ashes and Roses**  
_Celynne and Reese_  
  
  
{ I: Citrus and Sunshine }  
  
  
  
  


It was another humid, early morning and the sun had yet to fully rise from behind the street buildings. Already there were pedestrians bustling on the cobblestone streets, buying their weekend groceries at the market. Children were scattered about the streets with red bouncing balls and a rope to play with.  
  
A young woman passed the youngsters by with a gracious smile. Some waved, passionately, and others--whom were adorably toothless--smiled shyly at her. This was an everyday occurrence, one that she had come to love in a short amount of time. Oh, and the kids were wonderfully sweet. She passed a wide-eyed little boy and ruffled his hair, affectionately, before stopping at a nearby coffeehouse.  
  
The antiquated coffeehouse was simply _marvelous_, she mused, as she tilted her head up slightly to gaze. adoringly, at the building. The structure was a subtle peach colour, bathed in a faded, luxurious splendour that reminded her very much of her own home back in England.  
  
As predicted, she took her seat at a round table on the terrace and quietly read from the book she had brought with her.  
  
  
  
  
Soleil washed the countertop with a washcloth, as she quietly stared at the lone young woman sitting at the table out on the sun-bathed terrace. She glanced behind her at the young man who was currently taking an older woman's order and shook her head, disapprovingly. Tucking the washcloth in the pocket of her apron, Soleil approached him with her hands on her hips.  
  
It had been two months now.  
  
A fool, he was.  
  
she acknowledged with a condescending tone, how long do you plan to keep up this idiotic charade?  
  
He sighed and rubbed his temples--all this after he had thanked the elderly woman and given her coffee.  
  
Soleil, it's not that simple.  
  
She rolled her eyes and threw her hands up in defeat. It was a poor excuse, and she knew that he knew it. And, despite his protests, his reasons for leaving' were quite cowardly and could easily be fixed; they _were_ that simple.  
  
He was a man running away from love. No, scrap that. He was a _blind, foolish_ man running away from love.  
  
She stopped abruptly then turned to him.  
  
Will _you_ be taking her order or should I? I think I shou-  
  
No! Uh, no, Soleil. I'll do it. Besides, you've been working too hard this past week.  
  
You do realise that's a pitiful persuasion, don't you?  
  
  
  
She couldn't help the smile that tickled her lips.  
  
And you realise that I don't condone this pining from afar' _thing_ you're trying to pull, right?  
  
Yes, _Mum_.  
  
Oh, off with you then! Shoo! Soleil placed a pad of paper and a pencil in his hand and pushed him from behind the counter and into the golden light.  
  
  
  
  
The balcony doors may have been open--allowing quite a small breeze through--but it did not help the heat that pervaded his room. He blamed it on the pinnacle of summer spent in a country that was quite prone to heat waves, everything but the hot sex that had transpired in his bed the previous night (although that was subconsciously accounted for).  
  
Draco sat upright and noted right away about the kinks in his shoulder and back muscles. Had it really been that wild? He risked a glance at the strawberry blonde beside him and confirmed his uncertainty. The woman he had known for years and who he had invited over for dinner was a wildcat in bed, abandoned herself to all kinky things and sex. Sex, sex, sex--that was what she loved. Despite that beneficial factor, he also knew that she was clinging onto a one-sided love. He liked her, yes, but he never considered love as an option.  
  
Suddenly, Morning, love.  
  
Draco blinked and allowed a smirk to grace his aristocratic features.  
  
Morning. Enjoy yourself last night? he asked in that awfully sexy, snarky way. I must say that I am impressed, Parkinson. But that could be because of your momentary monthly cycle that's improved you quite a bit. Seven days is much too long for no unadulterated sex play.  
  
With grace to blush, she playfully smacked him across the shoulder.  
  
Not one for subtlety, are you?  
  
Your fault for wanting to bed me. He replied and rolled out of bed, the sheets sliding off his sleek, pale body, revealing him in all his naked glory. He caught the twinkle in her eye and teased, Enjoying the view?  
  
She tilted her head to one side.  
  
Quite marvelous from this angle, actually.  
  
Draco chuckled and padded towards the bathroom.  
  
Pansy sighed in sheer bliss, knowing that this--seeing Draco Malfoy after three years--was certainly Heaven on earth (note the capital H'), considering she had never seen him since. And now that she had, she guiltily admitted that she was growing quite smitten with him, and she had _enjoyed_ the one night they spent together.   
  
Growing up after the War had somehow altered their outlook on life. Bitter and nasty were now words that could not be associated with the individuals who deemed themselves Slytherin once upon a time. Sure, there was the occasional sense of hopelessness, paranoia, and everything else that scarred them for life--physically and emotionally--but they helped each other with that even though they lived miles apart. After all, they understood each other's turmoils ...  
  
Well, he understood _hers_ at least.  
  
Despite Draco's learning capacity to understand and to be a bit more relaxed, he was still arrogant, stubborn, and selfish to a fault. And when he was always haunted with nightmares, he would keep them to himself until she pried them out of him, which never did much good anyway.  
  
She released a small laugh that erupted from her throat.  
  
_Oh well_, she thought, _what he lacks in emotional stability he makes up in stamina overdrive_.  
  
  
  
A muffled acknowledgement went back to her; he was probably brushing up on his looks. Merlin knew he was a narcissist and that required heavy concentration. She laughed to herself.  
  
I'll be dropping by the market today before heading back home. Care to join me?  
  
A mm-hm' was her reply.  
  
Yep.  
  
He certainly did take after his mother.  
  
  
  
  
His breath caught in his throat the minute he stepped onto the terrace. The air smelled like lemons and oranges. Her scent.  
  
God, she was beautiful.  
  
Her hair--wet from an early morning shower--was fastened, securely, in the back of her head by a black clip, strands of honey-russet framing her delicate, heart-shaped face. She wore a yellow sundress, which accentuated the fairness of her skin and the soft mahogany of her eyes. His eyes took an appreciative once-over and rested on the modest piece of jewelry she wore around her neck: a garnet stone that hung low on a silver chain, which he had given to her on her twenty-first birthday.  
  
That was last year.  
  
And it was only two months ago that he had left her for a life of hiding ...  
  
Taking a deep breath of the fresh summer breeze, he walked up to her and smiled.  
  
How are you, Miss Granger?  
  
  
  
  
Hermione looked up from her book to the voice above her. She smiled, sweetly, and turned to him. He came out of nowhere, actually, just began to take her orders and making small conversation. He was a sweet fellow, very polite and captivating. Brown, windswept hair and amber eyes with a lean thinness and handsome features. Charming, indeed. He reminded her very much of a missing friend.  
  
Hullo, James. She greeted. I'm fine, thank you. And what about you? Charming more girls, I assume?  
  
A faint blush stained his cheeks, and he shook his head.  
  
No, of course not.  
  
She grinned. Your adoring fans tell me otherwise. She nodded in the direction of two giggling young women on the opposite side of the terrace. They were smiling and waving at him. They're very pretty and you're single, aren't you?  
  
As well as you, Miss Granger. He retorted with a knowing smile.  
  
Touché. And stop calling me Miss Granger. She chastised. I'm _Hermione_.  
  
And she was still bossy in that charming sort of way, she was. He thanked Merlin for that. He be damned if she did.  
  
So, another hazelnut?  
  
With a hint of vanilla, yes.  
  
Be right back. He said and disappeared into the building.  
  
A forlorn smile graced her features.  
  
He reminded her _so_ much of him.  
  
She missed Harry, she really did.  
  
  
  
  
I want coffee.  
  
Pansy looked at him, one perfect eyebrow arched high in surprise. They had left his bachelor pad moments ago and had just stepped out of a corner store from which she had bought several exotic fruits. They _were_ making a turn for the sweets shoppe, but he had inadvertantly led her in another direction  
  
You? Coffee?  
  
He sniffed at her. What's wrong with it?  
  
Remember what happened in sixth year? *  
  
Draco scowled. Bloody hell. Why is it that bygones are almost always never left as such? That's why whoever invented the word was sheer genius until you and several unmentionables decide to bring it up.  
  
Pansy flinched. Just a bit. Very tiny. Miniscule. Barely seen.  
  
So maybe she didn't flinch, but it was alternatively better than roaring with laughter in his face. He would probably _Avada_ her into oblivion.  
  
Sorry. It was just, um ... He glared at her. Want that cofffee? Let's get coffee. I'd like to try this coffee'. Oh, look. A coffeehouse!  
  
Draco loved it when he got his way.  
  
  
  
  
Here, Hermione.  
  
Thank you. She sipped from the cup and sighed. Wonderful, as always. Tell whoever makes this coffee that he or she is simply brilliant!  
  
He nodded, praising himself, silently.  
  
Well, I have errands to run today. Bye, James.  
  
She picked up her book and coffee and started to rise from her chair. The minute she spun around, a body collided with hers.  
  
Half of her coffee spilled over the cup.  
  
  
  
  
Pansy shrieked.  
  
My dress! You, you ... you good-for-nothing, horrid little Mug-  
  
Draco nudged her, hard.  
  
Noting Muggles' in public was fine, just as long as it was a silent acknowledgement. Saying it aloud in public was blasphemous. They would either be classified as insane or tried at in a witch trial, although the latter was outdated for generations. But still, Muggles were renowned for reviving old practices.  
  
Hermione's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes widened in surprise. She looked extremely apologetic.  
  
I'm _so_ sorry! I didn't-  
  
_Sorry_ won't fix this one-of-a-kind dress, you fool! Pansy huffed and stomped into the coffeehouse in search of the loo, right after she said, Excuse me, love, I'll be _fixing_ my dress. I won't be long.  
  
With one last glare in Hermione's direction, she left.  
  
Hermione looked after her and then turned to the companion.  
  
I'm so sorry about that. I didn't see. I could pay for your wife's dress if you'd like.  
  
Draco shook his head.  
  
That really isn't necessary. She isn't my ... Granger?  
  
He was rooted to the spot. Hermione Granger, a young woman now, stood in front of him with confusion written all over her pretty features. She really was the least person he expected in Prague, a city of soft-hearted romance and secret kisses under the stars, a lively city that seemed offhand for a girl like her. Then again, she never ceased to amuse and surprise him. Comprehension finally settled into her eyes. She opened her mouth, as if she were about to say something, but she shut it almost immediately. He was surprised that he wanted her to say something, anything. Perhaps they could mend the past?  
  
It was wishful thinking, he knew, but he had come to learn that there were such things as miracles.  
  
She was the one to speak first.  
  
How are you?  
  
He said, curtly.   
  
She looked in the direction she assumed was Pansy left. She was sorry, she really was, despite her deep hatred for the Pureblood.  
  
Been better. She paused and bit her lip. I have to ... well, tell--Pansy, is it?--that I'm terribly sorry about her dress, but I was just on my way.  
  
He watched her brush past him. He had one question that bothered him after all these years. Just one. If she answered it, he could probably sleep better in times to come. Probably.  
  
He called out and turned around.  
  
She stopped and spun on her heel to face him.  
  
  
  
Hermione sighed and tried to look at anything but him. His eyes, however, were only focused on her and were only aware of the woman in front of him. He watched her as she looked at him, thoughtfully, and then smiled a sad smile.  
  
It's complicated.  
  
For the second time, she walked away from him.  
  
  
  
  
// ending note, i (citrus&sunshine)  
  
* Very subtle reference to Maya's _Draco Malfoy, the Amazing Bouncing ... Rat?_ and his love for coffee. The coffee bit was priceless, you know ...  
  
I love awkward meetings, don't you?  
  
Updates are as follows:  
  
- Candid Camera (14/02/04)  
- The Broomstick (01/03/04?)  
- Black Catalyst (Undecided)  
- Midsummer Nights (Undecided)  
- Ashes and Roses (when all the above are updated)  
  
So much to do, so little time. Eep! Curse whoever made up deadlines'.


	2. updates

**notes to consider:** this is _crushed blood_ / _uh no_, and i'm doing updates for reese since she's on vacaion. 'ashes and roses' is now being updated at her LJ and her LJ only. so if you were followers of this story, you might want to keep tabs on this story over there. she revised the first chapter only, so you know. when she gets back, she'll tag on another.

and just so this isn't stripped from ffNET, here's a snippet:

&

The bell above the door chimed musically, and the man from behind the counter of the quaint coffeehouse looked up to see a young woman with blazing red-orange hair walk inside, a wide smile on her face. She greeted the early morning customers first, commenting on the perfect weather that engulfed the streets of Prague and asking everyone updates on their lives. Always amiable and vivacious, she was a favourite among the customers.

He threw the washcloth he had been using earlier over his shoulder and smiled at the scene. He had so much to thank her for; without her, he wasn't sure where he would be today. In fact, he was fairly certain he would be a wreck had he not met her.

She finally turned around and smiled at him, blue eyes winking merrily. She approached the counter with a bounce in her step and leaned forward to place a quick kiss on his cheek.

'And how are you this morning, James?'

He thought about his answer carefully but looking at her for a few more seconds, he realised that every day felt the same and that there was no point to thinking.

'I'm doing great, Soleil.' He grinned, then threw the washcloth at her face. 'Now get to work.'

* * *

**notes 2:** want more? just go to LJ, username 'vexia' & search. 


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